Thumbs Down to the Gown
by karly05
Summary: Vanessa and Ferb are officially engaged, and visions of poofy white dresses are dancing in Charlene's head as she drags her daughter to the bridal salon. A fluffy installment in what will eventually be the Epic Ferbnessa Wedding Saga.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – This is part of what will eventually be the Epic Ferbnessa Wedding Saga. (You should also go read "The One That Says Ferb and Vanessa" if you haven't, as well as the final chapter, "Plane," from "Vignettes a la Carte.") In the episode "Candace's Big Day," Candace tells Mom & Aunt Tiana to "go to Tri-State Bridal and ask for Olga," so I grabbed that reference and ran with it. Of course Vanessa and Charlene belong to Povenmire & Marsh.**

Thumbs Down to the Gown – Part One

Vanessa Doofenshmirtz entered the Chamber of Tortures, fighting the urge to shield her eyes against the blinding whiteness. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this," she muttered.

"Oh, hon, give it a chance," her mother encouraged brightly, looping an arm through hers and steering her toward the gold-flecked alabaster counter at the front of the shop. The platinum-beehived woman stationed there greeted them with a gleaming smile.

"Welcome to Tri-State Bridal! How may we help with your _blissful_ day?"

Mom was practically glowing as she proclaimed, "We have an appointment with Olga. Vanessa Doofenshmirtz."

The receptionist checked the pale pink pages spread in front of her and took up a feathery pen to draw a tiny heart beside the name. "Of course. Please have a seat, and Olga will be right with you."

The two women perched side by side on the gold and ivory settee. Vanessa could feel her mother quivering with excitement, like a child clutching a golden ticket to the world's most amazing candy factory. Too bad she wasn't the bride. Ever since Vanessa and Ferb had officially announced their engagement to their families, Charlene Doofenshmirtz had talked and gushed and blathered about taking Vanessa to pick out a wedding gown. Never mind that Vanessa had an aversion to billowing taffeta and glittery tulle, never mind that she and Ferb were already planning something 'non-traditional,' Mom would not stop poring over bridal magazines and pulling out pictures of ballgowns and beading and bustled trains. This was going to be a long day.

They had been waiting for only a few minutes when a woman draped in shades of peach came out to meet them. "Ah, here is my beautiful bride!" she exclaimed, speaking with the carefully-preserved remains of a Russian accent. "I am Olga." She was older than Charlene and shorter than both of them, with sleek black hair drawn up in a bun and a demeanor that hinted at some cross between an aging prima ballerina and a drill sergeant.

"Charlene Doofenshmirtz," the proud mother pounced on her. "This is my daughter, Vanessa." Two maternal hands clamped onto Vanessa's shoulders and gave her a tender shake.

"Hi," Vanessa murmured, half-smiling, half-wincing at her mother's enthusiasm.

Olga examined the bride-to-be with an appraising glint in her eye. "You are in good hands now. Come. We shall make you gorgeous."

As the Doofenshmirtz ladies followed their guide into the salon, Olga asked, "Are we expecting any others? Bridesmaids? The Mother-in-Law?"

"No, just us," Vanessa answered.

"Good," the woman said. "Too many opinions. We do not want unnecessary distractions today. Tell me about your fiance."

"Well, his name is Ferb Fletcher," Vanessa began, "and he's…"

"Ferb?" Olga stopped in her tracks at the name. "The Ferb who is the brother of Phineas Flynn?"

The future Mrs. Fletcher had to stop herself from bristling at the way the question was phrased. Ferb might not have minded, but it annoyed her that he was constantly relegated to second billing. "Ferb has a brother named Phineas, yes."

"When is the happy day?"

"August Fifteenth, next year. I know it's a long way off," Vanessa began, but Olga stopped her.

"It is much closer than you think! Too many brides come to me at the last minute, six months, six _weeks_, there is no time! They must take something from the rack and I must work a miracle for them! I _do_ work the miracles," she noted proudly. "But, for you, they will be better, because you have given me time."

"I've been trying to drag her in here since last fall," Charlene confided.

Olga nodded her approval of this motherly wisdom as she led them into the wonderland of bridal fashion. Overwhelmed by the layers of gowns packed together on the racks, Vanessa had no idea where to start, but Mom made a beeline to the first bulging skirt she saw.

"Oh, honey!" She lifted the hanger from the rack and tulle went everywhere. "You have to try this one!"

"Mom, we already talked about this, I'm not looking for some poofy princess dress."

"Now, how do you know you won't like it until you try it on?" Charlene coaxed. "Oh, look, it _sparkles!_" she breathed, holding it in the light.

"Great," grumbled Vanessa. "A poofy _sparkly_ princess dress. Just give me a little Rainbow Fairy wand and I'm all set."

At this point, Olga swept in, taking the dress from Charlene and steering her back out toward a sitting area in the salon. "Mama, you take a nice seat out here and let your beautiful daughter surprise you."

"But – but –" Charlene looked plaintively back at the multitude of gowns.

The woman gently but firmly hushed her and said, "You trust Olga." And, with that, Charlene was left waiting while Vanessa and the bridal consultant had the run of the racks.

"Thank you," said Vanessa once they were alone. "She's gone totally mental about this dress thing! Seriously, do I _look_ like the fairy princess type?"

Olga did not reply to this, but collected the sparkly ballgown and two others similar to it, and motioned for Vanessa to follow her. "Come, we try these on you."

"Wait," she protested, "didn't you hear me? I don't want those."

"I heard," said Olga calmly. "But you will try them on." When Vanessa folded her arms and stood her ground, the woman explained, "When you were little girl, you played with dolls, yes? Dressing them in pretty clothes?"

_More like coloring their hair with markers and cutting up their clothes, but…_ "Well, yeah," Vanessa conceded.

"Today is the happiest day of your mother's life. Not the wedding day, _today_. You are her dress-up doll, and she has come to see you in pretty gowns. Besides," Olga marched her into the changing room, "if you do not try on the ballgown, she will not accept what you want. It will always be this." Olga made big, sad eyes and moaned in a voice Vanessa could definitely hear coming out of her mother, "'Oh, if only you had tried on the _baaallgown_, oh the _baaallgown_ would be so much more beautiful!' Do not fear," Olga gave her bride's arm a sympathetic pat. "It will be over soon."

Surrendering her dignity, Vanessa got out of her clothes. Olga was pleased to see that she had planned ahead and come wearing the proper strapless foundation garments. _Yeah, and the underwire is killing me_, Vanessa wanted to gripe. She managed to get into the sparkly-skirted gown without smothering herself, and tugged at the neckline as Olga fastened the silver-beaded bodice up the back with plastic clips.

"This is _not_ going to stay up," Vanessa fretted.

"It will stay," the woman assured her. "If you do not pull at it," she added, shooing away the meddling hands. "Straight and tall," Olga pressed the small of her back to adjust her posture. "And smile!"

Vanessa regarded herself in the mirror. The bodice cut straight across her chest – _Might as well have just wrapped a towel around myself_ – and the shimmery silver band was cinched around her waist. The huge skirt was sprinkled with tiny silver beads and sequins, and it really did scream out for a glittery wand and tiara. There was something vaguely familiar about the reflection looking back at her, and Vanessa's eyes went wide with horrified amusement when she realized: _I look like Isabella!_

Forcing a smile, Vanessa paraded out to the small sitting area where her mother waited. She stifled a shudder when she saw how Mom's eyes lit up at the sight of her, clutching at her heart in delight. "Oh, Vanessa! Oh, it's so pretty! Turn around, turn around," she twirled an eager hand, "let me see!" The buoyant skirt bobbed and swayed as Vanessa made a circle and her mother clapped lightly, unable to restrain herself. Was Mom actually _giggling?_

"Mama, you are very fortunate," Olga beamed. Drawing closer to Charlene, she confided in a lowered voice, "They say that all brides are beautiful, but…" She wagged a finger in denial of this. "Your daughter is truly a beautiful young lady. I could close my eyes, put her in any gown from the rack, and she would look stunning. This one," she regarded the sparkly ballgown with a critical eye, "is pretty, but we can do better! You will see."

Olga motioned for Vanessa and herded her back into the changing room.

"Ugh, she loves it," Vanessa groaned.

"No," said Olga, unclipping the back of the gown. "No, she does not." When Vanessa gave her a dubious look, the woman explained. "There were no tears. She sees only a pretty sparkly dress on her doll, not her little girl as a bride. When you are in the right dress, the dress that is _yours_, there will be tears. For now, we humor her, then she will forget about the 'poofy princess dress.' You do not like sparkles, so we try this one."

Olga got her out of the first gown and into another one of the same general bell-skirted shape. There were no sparkles this time, no rhinestones or beading, just a narrow band and small rosette of white silk at the waist. The tulle layers of the skirt floated around her like a cloud, and the gauzy bodice criss-crossed over Vanessa's chest, making a V. If she had been worried about a wardrobe malfunction before, this gown made her feel even more exposed. Olga swatted at her hands and commanded, "Stop pulling!"

"I'm going to fall out of this," Vanessa insisted.

"You have a bust," Olga pointed out, as if this was necessary. "Other girls would kill for such a figure. There," she adjusted the last clip, and Vanessa faced the mirror.

_I look like a refugee from Swan Lake_. Actually, she considered, turning herself for a better view, she looked a bit like something from a Degas painting, which was not the worst comparison she could have imagined. She still didn't think the stark white favored her pale skin, and she really did feel as if her chest might pop out of the bodice at any moment, but it was at least an improvement over the Fairy Princess gown.

"It's a little plain," was Charlene's response when Vanessa tiptoed out to display herself. "Not that you don't look pretty," she was hasty to add, "but – "

"It's okay, Mom, it's not my favorite, either," Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief.

"She should have something with more drama," Olga decreed, and they retreated again to the changing room.

"I really hate the strapless," Vanessa insisted, getting out of the ballerina gown.

"Then you will not mind this." Olga swapped the discarded gown for another. The floaty ballgown skirt was much like the previous dress, and the bodice still had a slight dip to it, but this time there was a rhinestone-encrusted sash, like a cascade of frozen leaves, that came over her right shoulder and across her chest, ending at the left side of her waist.

This time, Vanessa made no effort to keep her opinion to herself. "I look like Miss Antarctica. Oh, just get me out of this," she groaned. "I've played dress-up for Mom long enough."

Olga made a tut-tut sound of refusal. "This is the last, then she will be finished. Come. You will see."

Marching out in the pageant gown, Vanessa put her hands on her hips and struck a gloomy pose.

"Well, it is more dramatic," said Charlene. "But… you know, honey, Olga's right, you're going to look beautiful in anything, but I really don't think that ballgown shape is right for you. It's really more of a 'little girl' look, and after all, you are a grown woman. And you have such a nice figure, it's just buried under those dresses."

"Mama, you have a good eye," Olga agreed. "Come," she summoned the bride, "we will try something different."

Back among the racks, Vanessa gave the wise woman a dry smile and conceded, "Okay, you were right. Now can we talk about what I want? Or _don't_ want?"

"No sparkles, no strapless, no poofy princess skirts," Olga answered, sorting through gowns and plucking hangers.

"Yeah, that's part of it, but – don't bring this up in front of Mom, because she'll just want to argue about it, but Ferb and I are getting married in Paris."

Olga raised an eyebrow. "She does not know this?"

"Oh, she knows, she's just in denial. She thinks we're being silly and we'll come to our senses and have it at the Walworth or the Art Museum or something."

"So it is a destination wedding?" This news prompted the woman to select another dress. "Why Paris?"

_Because eleven years ago I bailed on Ferb and left him standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower and I want to make it up to him_, thought Vanessa, but she didn't feel like going into that now and simply said, "It's romantic."

"Hm." Olga was preparing the new gown for her, but her tone was the same as Mom's, in that indulgent, dismissive way that said, _Sooner or later, you'll come to your senses._ "This, you will like," she remarked, as Vanessa donned the new dress. "Simple, yet elegant."

To its credit, the gown was neither strapless nor poofy, but a slim, sleeveless sheath in a milky white satin, ornamented only with a subtle spray of flowers at the hip. Olga fastened it up the back, then gathered Vanessa's shoulder-length hair and with a swift twist, clipped it behind her head. "It requires an up-do for the proper effect," the woman explained, ushering her out to the salon.

"Oh, honey, you look like a movie star!" was her mother's reaction. "So glamorous!"

Vanessa turned herself from side to side, appraising her own reflection. She wished the dress had a bit more shape to it. Granted, she didn't have to worry about falling out of it, and it was better than the ballgowns, but… "It's just so… _white._"

"Well, of course it's white," Mom answered, with a _don't be silly_ smile. "It's a wedding gown."

"It's just not my style," she tried to explain. "All these gowns – They're just not _me._"

Charlene's eyes flew open in alarm as she declared, "Vanessa Doofenshmirtz, you are _not_ getting married in black!"

"Nobody said anything about _black_, Mom," Vanessa groaned. It had been years since she had cocooned herself in the old monochromatic wardrobe, but of course that was the first thing her mother thought of. "I'd just like a little color, that's all."

"Perhaps something in a blush," Olga proposed.

Vanessa translated this with a glum look. "You mean… _pink?_"

"It can be a flattering shade for a young lady of your coloring," said Olga.

"Give it a try, hon," Charlene seconded.

"All right," Vanessa gave in. "One more gown. But that's it for today."

"But, honey, you've only tried…"

Olga intervened, "Mama, we should not exhaust our bride on the first appointment. It is overwhelming, and she must have time to think before making such an important decision. Come," she collected Vanessa. "One more gown for today, in a pretty color."

Back in the racks, Olga pulled another dress. "It has ruffles," she warned. "But also glamorous. You will be stunning."

Vanessa didn't mind _some_ ruffles, or even a little lace, and she perked up with curiosity when she saw the gown produced for her approval. On the down side, it was decidedly pink, she thought, as she stepped into it. But, on the plus side, it was a mermaid shape that hugged her curves in a smooth, silky embrace, with a one-shouldered bodice that flattered her without threatening to expose too much. Just above her knees, a pink satin band wrapped around her, ornamented with a satin bow shaped into a large rose. The bottom of the skirt blossomed out in angled layers of ruffles, hemmed in more bands of pink satin, and blooming with two more ripe pink roses. She had to admit, the shape suited her figure, and the dress was pretty. She just wished it had been some other color.

Hobbling out to show her mother, Vanessa was acutely aware of the gown's main drawback. It was challenging to walk in. It would certainly be difficult to traipse all over Paris in. She actually reached out for Olga's hand to steady herself as she stepped up onto the platform in front of the mirror.

"Oh, I'm breathless," Charlene put a hand to her chest. "You look like Ginger Rogers!"

The gown did remind Vanessa of the romantic old movies she and Ferb had watched on television, on the New Year's Eve she'd had a cold and he had come over to keep her company. She could imagine herself in his arms, dancing to some 1930s song – well, if she _could_ dance in the gown without toppling over. Hands on hips, she swayed this way and that, still indecisive.

"Does it come in anything other than pink?" she asked, then corrected herself. "I mean, _blush_?"

"White," said Olga, with a pointed look.

"Of course," muttered Vanessa. If she and Ferb had been getting married at the Art Museum… If the dress had been some other color – blue, maybe…? If it hadn't been so restricting… _If, If, If_. She looked over her shoulder and asked, in the voice of a lost little girl, "Mom…?"

"It's beautiful, honey – you look beautiful. But, you don't have to decide today."

Vanessa gazed into her mother's eyes. She saw happiness, admiration, sympathy… but not one tiny glint of a tear. With a sigh, half-decisive, half-disappointed, the young woman said, "Thanks, Olga. I think we'll keep looking."

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Thumbs Down to the Gown – Part Two

Five weeks, two more consultations with Olga and twelve gowns later, Vanessa was no closer to finding her Dream Dress than when she had started.

"They all look the same," she lamented to Ferb when she came home after the last endeavor. "It's just one big blur of white after a while. With the occasional dash of _'blush,'_" she corrected with a glum pout.

Ferb's supremely helpful male opinion was, "Then just turn around ten times and point at one. You know you'll look beautiful in anything."

"Just for that," she glowered fondly at him, "I'm going to show up at the altar in your old Love Handel T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Then we'll see what you think."

"Won't work." Ferb pulled her in for a playful kiss on the cheek and murmured, "Still beautiful."

Of course, the dresses at Tri-State Bridal didn't really all look the same. And she had to give Olga credit: the woman knew her stuff, and had made a valiant effort to find _the_ gown for Vanessa. There had been multiple mermaid shapes with various sorts of beading and bows and swishy skirts. There had been modest gowns with lace up to her neck, short and simple dresses suited for a destination wedding, and one confection of ruffles and roses that made her look like a ghostly flamenco dancer. But they were all missing something, that special _je ne sais quoi_ that would make the gown uniquely hers, instead of some off-the-rack flavor of the season shared by any number of random brides. And, Vanessa noticed, as much as her mother oohed and ahhed over several of them, not one had brought even a single tear of joy to the maternal eye.

Vanessa might have lost the Battle of Tri-State Bridal, but she had only begun to fight the Wedding Gown War, and it was far too early to surrender. At least, that was her mother's view. Charlene Doofenshmirtz retreated to plan their next attack, and scheduled an appointment for them at Vision Bridal Couture in the metropolis of Oakdale, two hours' drive from Danville. Vanessa was actually looking forward to this trip. The boutique had a trendy, exclusive reputation and she was hopeful of finding something a bit more daring than the mass-market styles at Tri-State. Her one concern was how much 'trendy' could end up costing, but her mother insisted that she put such thoughts out of her head. "I'll take care of that," Charlene promised. "I just want my little girl to be happy."

When she pulled up to her mother's house on the morning of their road trip, she found a familiar car parked at the top of the driveway. Mom had called in reinforcements.

"Hi, Vanessa," Linda Flynn-Fletcher greeted her brightly as she entered the kitchen. "It was so sweet of you to invite me along today."

"Sure, no problem," Vanessa returned the smile. She flashed her mother a look that said, _How many more surprises do you have in store for me? _She liked Ferb's mother, and actually harbored some hope that Linda would be a calming influence on Mom, but she didn't appreciate being ambushed.

"Won't this be fun, just the three of us girls?" Charlene jumped in. "There's a nice little bistro down the block from the bridal shop, too. We can have lunch there when we're finished."

"Sounds good," Vanessa agreed, and saw her mother relax at her calm tone.

"We'd better get going," Mom looked at the clock. "We don't want to be late."

They piled into Charlene's car, engaging in a brief scuffle over seating arrangements until Linda prevailed in urging Vanessa to sit up front with her mother, and put herself in the back seat. Once they were underway, Linda remarked to Vanessa, "You know, I really like your hair up like that."

"Thanks," she answered, gingerly patting the casual, clipped-up twist. "Olga put it up the first time I went to Tri-State. She says having it down _distracts_ from the gowns."

"Oh, she's a character, isn't she," Linda chuckled. "I remember when my sister got married in our back yard, Candace sent us to her for our dresses. You know, Candace planned that whole wedding in one day – with some help from the boys, of course. I suppose Ferb's told you about that…"

Vanessa was happy to let Linda ramble about the back yard wedding, especially since it saved her from having to answer a lot of questions or get into any disputes about Paris or any other silly ideas she and Ferb were contemplating. Sooner or later, Mom did bring up the idea of the French Impressionist wing of the Art Museum as a venue, and Linda did mention "That nice Rabbi Lopez" who had co-officiated the wedding of Phineas and Isabella, but Vanessa managed a practically pleasant, "We'll keep it in mind" before changing the subject. All in all, the drive passed quickly, and before long Charlene was maneuvering into a parking spot on the street in front of Vision Bridal Couture.

As soon as they walked into the shop, Vanessa felt a touch of optimism. The muted colors and sleek, modern furniture were more to her liking than the in-your-face Bridal Bower of Bliss she had grown accustomed to. From behind a simple desk made of brushed metal and black glass, a petite young woman with a heart-shaped face rose to welcome them. "Vanessa Doofenshmirtz?" she asked, consulting the small touch-screen tablet in her hand, and hesitating only slightly as she pronounced the name.

"Yes," the bride-to-be answered.

"Our appointment is for eleven o'clock," Charlene interjected. "We're a little early."

"Not at all," Heart-Face assured them with a delicate smile and a light tap on the screen. "Your consultant will be right with you. Please, have a seat."

The reception area was separated from the inner workings of the salon by a wall of aqua-tinted glass blocks. Vanessa was aware of a shadow or two passing behind the wall, and the occasional murmur of a voice or rustle of a skirt. She became conscious of music playing faintly in the background, the sort of soft soundscapes that her mother enjoyed. As they waited, Mom lightly touched her arm and leaned in to whisper to her.

"Remember, no fussing about price tags. If you find what you want here, we're getting it, no matter what."

"Yeah, Mom, we'll see," Vanessa muttered in reply. She was keeping an amused eye on Linda, who was looking giddy and eager to begin, much the same way Charlene had looked on their first gown-shopping excursion. What was it about Moms and Wedding Dresses?

They had been sitting for about five minutes when a woman emerged from behind the glass wall. She was a youthful forty perhaps, with bobbed russet hair and stylish spectacles, and was dressed in a slim black skirt and lavender blouse. With a warm smile, she approached them and said, "Hello, Vanessa," as if greeting a pleasant acquaintance she hadn't seen in a while. "I'm Lydia, I'll be assisting you today." Looking first to Charlene, then to Linda, she identified them in a tone that sounded more like a statement than a guess, "Mother of the Bride? Mother of the Groom?"

The ladies smiled and nodded and introduced themselves, and Lydia said, as if she really meant it, "I'm so glad you could join us. If you'll come with me…" she suggested, leading them behind the glass wall and into an oval lobby. Sliding doors of tinted glass marked four small private salons, and Lydia ushered them into the second one on their left. Within this consultation room were a lounge and chair for seating, and a three-paneled mirror facing them. Against the wall opposite the entrance was a narrow table laden with dainty cookies and savory pastry puffs, an electric coffee pot and carafes of iced tea and water. With a gracious gesture, Lydia motioned Vanessa to the lounge and sat down beside her. Charlene perched on the other side of her daughter, and Linda took the chair.

"Vanessa, tell me about your vision," Lydia invited. "How do you see yourself on your wedding day?"

"Well…" she was surprised to find herself caught off-guard by the question. "I'm looking for something… unconventional, I guess. Unusual."

"That gives us a lot to work with," Lydia pointed out pleasantly. "Any particular mood you're trying to create?"

"Honestly, at this point," Vanessa sighed, "I know more about what I don't want than what I do want. I'm not into the poofy princess look, no sparkly tulle. I'm not crazy about pink, and white really isn't my color."

Lydia sat back and regarded Vanessa through her spectacles. "There are so many shades of white, I'm certain some are more flattering to you than others. And there are other choices, as well. More and more brides today are looking for something besides the traditional. What colors do you like?"

"She likes black," Charlene put in, obviously intending to be helpful. "And purple," she added, when Vanessa shot her a brief, irritable glance.

"I tend to dress in darker colors," she explained, "but I'm not looking for a black wedding gown. Maybe… softer colors? I don't mean pastels, really, but…"

"Something with an undertone of smoke, or mist," Lydia contemplated. "Layered colors, perhaps, or contrasting accents. Vanessa, why don't you come with me, and we'll select some gowns for you to try on. Ladies," she addressed the mothers as she and Vanessa got up, "please enjoy some refreshments, and we'll be back shortly."

For a moment, Vanessa expected her mother to protest and insist on coming with them to paw through the racks, but to her surprise, Mom just gave her a little wave and a "Good luck, honey," as they left.

As they passed through the lobby, Lydia noted, "That's a beautiful ring, by the way. I don't think I've ever seen one like it."

Vanessa felt herself blushing with pride as she held out her hand to offer a better look at the gold and emerald ring. "It's an antique, from England. My fiance is British. Well, he's lived in Danville since he was four, but he still has the accent, it's really cute." In the back of her mind, she was aware that she was blathering but she didn't want to stop. "His name is Ferb Fletcher, I've known him forever – well, not really forever, but a long time."

"Is it a family heirloom?"

"No, Ferb's father found it at an estate sale," she explained. "His parents are antique dealers; they own a shop in Danville. I guess he drove them crazy," she smiled fondly, "trying to help him find the perfect ring."

"He sounds like a wonderful man," Lydia acknowledged. "That's an interesting name. Ferb?"

"Yeah," Vanessa said with a slight chuckle, "that _is_ a family heirloom. And he is pretty terrific."

"Have you talked with him about your dress? What do you think he'd like to see?" the consultant prompted.

"Oh, he's no help," Vanessa brushed this off with a fond roll of her eyes. "He says I'll look beautiful in anything."

"Men," the woman gave her a merry glance of sympathy. "Have you tried a mermaid silhouette? It would be flattering on you."

"Yeah, but it's kind of hard to walk in." Vanessa was warming up to Lydia, but she wasn't sure if she should mention Paris quite yet.

"Let's give it another try," she encouraged. "I have one I think you might like."

Lydia found the dress she was looking for and directed her bride toward a changing room. Vanessa saw at once why she had chosen the gown. It was strapless – Vanessa had forgotten to lodge her objections to this, but decided to give it a chance – but the thing that set it apart from any ordinary white dress was the black band around the waist, and the slashes of black embroidery that looped across and around the gown in a chain of ebony roses. Even the crisp shade of white looked better on her with the black accents, she realized, examining herself in the changing room mirror. The strapless neckline came up high enough to feel secure, and had a subtle curve to it. The mermaid shape hugged her figure down to mid-thigh before it flared out into a stiff skirt of sheer layers that formed a short train behind her.

Once Lydia had her fastened into the dress, she looked Vanessa over and said, "I like the impact of the black on you. What do you think? Shall we go show the Moms?"

When they returned to the salon, they found Charlene and Linda chatting on the lounge, glasses of tea and plates of goodies in hand.

"Oh, how pretty!" Linda exclaimed, when Vanessa came into the room. "You look so sophisticated! Just like _My Fair Lady_."

"That is a good style for you," Charlene agreed, setting aside her refreshments to get up for a better view. "The black is actually very smart. You know, that would be perfect for the Art Museum."

With a sigh, Vanessa bit her tongue about the Art Museum, but she had to admit, she liked the gown better than anything she had tried on at Tri-State Bridal. And she was certain Ferb would appreciate it. There was still that nagging issue of strolling the boulevards of Paris, however. And even though Mom favored it, she wasn't wracked with emotion over it.

"What do you think, Vanessa?" asked Lydia.

"Well… I'll definitely keep it in mind. But I'd like to try some others."

Back to the changing room, and Vanessa said, "I'm just still concerned about how comfortable this is going to be to walk around in."

"It's not as if you have to walk very far," Lydia reminded her, unclipping the back of the gown to help her out of it. "Did your mother say you're having the wedding at an Art Museum?"

"No-o-o," Vanessa groaned, "that's her idea. Ferb and I want to get married in Paris."

Lydia seemed completely unfazed by this. "There's no reason you can't wear this in Paris. Have you found a venue there yet?"

"We haven't booked anything, but we want to have it at the top of the Eiffel Tower."

"I'm not certain that's possible," the woman advised gently.

"We'll see," Vanessa dismissed this concern, pulling on her regular clothes. It was going to take more than a few pesky civil ordinances to keep her from her dream wedding. Especially with a fiance who didn't know the meaning of the word 'impossible,' and a father with a basement full of potentially useful -inators. "The point is, I'm not likely to have a changing room nearby, so I'm probably going to end up roaming around the city in my wedding gown."

"We do have a nice selection of destination gowns," Lydia proposed, leading her to the appropriate rack, where they each began searching from opposite ends. Vanessa was brushing aside one casual beach resort frock after another when her eye was drawn to a skirt jutting out near the center of the rack, and her hand reached out for the hanger. Lydia saw what she was doing and said, "Oh, that is an unusual one, very cosmopolitan. Not everyone's style, but it might just be what you're looking for."

The dress was blue, a cool shade that Lydia named as 'Winter Sky.' That was what had drawn Vanessa's attention to it in the first place. When they took it back to the changing room, Lydia went to work on detaching it from the hanger. The crisp taffeta had a smooth finish, uncluttered by beading or frills. The bodice actually fastened in front, with an off-the-shoulder neckline of overlapping lapels, then the skirt wrapped and folded around in a structure of angular layers suspended by stiff petticoats, forming a broad-based cone that ended a few inches below her knees. A matching belt around the waist completed the look. It was more structured and suit-like than the usual gowns, and as she posed, hands on hips, in front of the mirror, Vanessa was surprised to find herself missing the poofy lacy softness she had come to expect in a gown.

"Oh, that is very smart," Lydia looked impressed as she adjusted the skirt. "And I think we've found your color."

Vanessa did like the frosty blue tone. And although she was certain that Ferb would have preferred the hip-hugging shape of the mermaid gowns, the cinched waist and flared skirt of this dress flattered her in a way the voluminous ball gowns never did.

Back to the viewing salon, and the maternal panel of judges. Vanessa noticed the lack of instantaneous squeals of girlish delight this time, although they both rose and came up for a closer look.

"It's like origami," said Linda, examining the folds of the skirt.

"It's very chic, dear," said Charlene, but Vanessa couldn't decide whether or not this was meant as a compliment.

"It certainly is different," added Linda. "In a… space-agey sort of way."

They stepped back to evaluate as Vanessa turned in front of the mirror. "I do like that color on you," Charlene decided, and Linda chimed in at once, "Oh, yes, the color really suits you."

"Yeah, I like the color, too," Vanessa looked it over again. "But…" Facing the mirror, her eyes met those of her mother's reflection. "You're going to laugh, but I'd rather have something a little more - frilly. Just a _little_," she emphasized, with a pinch of her fingertips.

"I'm not going to laugh, honey," Charlene's face in the mirror smiled back at her. "I miss the frills, too."

Vanessa looked at Lydia. "Do you have anything else in blue?"

A retreat to the changing room to unfold the origami dress from her figure and Vanessa was back in her sweater and slacks, on the hunt for more blue gowns. There were some, but they were few and far between, and the ones Vanessa was finding were all strapless. "You know," she remarked to Lydia, "I wasn't crazy about the strapless before today, but I didn't mind the black and white dress. At least I didn't feel like I was about to come out of it."

"Oh, trust me," said Lydia, digging through another rack, "once you have a dress that's properly fitted, you will _not_ come out of it. Not without a lot of work. How frilly are you willing to go?" she asked guardedly.

"Why, what have you got?" Vanessa looked over at her. Everything blue on her rack was either too plain, too elaborate, or too encrusted with crystals and rhinestones for her taste.

"There's a dress I want you to try…" Lydia was pushing skirts apart with both hands. "You have such a perfect Victorian figure, it would be beautiful on you. I'm sure it was here… Ah!" she finally exclaimed, locating the elusive gown. "Now how did I miss that?" From the rack, Lydia pulled a sky blue cascade of tulle and summoned Vanessa back to the dressing room. "You'll think the train is too long for Paris," she warned, "but it's adorable bustled, and not hard to do."

The sweet, summery shade of blue was beautiful, thought Vanessa, as she stepped into the dress. The strapless satin bodice was reminiscent of a Victorian corset, tastefully showcasing her natural endowments before nipping in at her waist then extending over the upper curves of her hips. The structure of the bodice was emphasized by vertical lines of tiny pearls and delicate silver beading, and a horizontal sash effect across the front was formed by more pearls and small blue satin roses. The skirt extended to her toes, the brief train trailing behind, a soft swath of layer upon layer of short, gauzy ruffles. It was frilly and floaty and made her look like a cross between a ballerina and a can-can dancer with her skirt wrong side out. It wasn't necessarily something Vanessa would have picked out for herself, but Ferb would like the way it complimented her figure, and the blue was so, so pretty.

"Oh, that's so pretty!" were the first words out of Linda's mouth when Vanessa walked into the room. "It's just like a cloud. I wish it was white, though," she mused.

"You don't like the blue?" Vanessa asked, turning herself in front of the mirror to see how all the little ruffles fluttered as she moved.

"The blue is beautiful," Linda considered, "and it really does become you, but… It's just not very wedding-y. It looks more like a costume for a movie, or… or…" With a wave of her hand, she brushed away this thought and proclaimed in a reassuring tone, "Don't listen to me, though. You're the bride."

Charlene had not spoken, and Vanessa turned away from the mirror to seek out her mother's face. Mom was standing back, arms wrapped in front of herself, one hand raised to cover her mouth. She looked as if she was struggling to hold back her emotions.

"Mom…?" Vanessa prompted gently. Could it be? Was this the dress – _her_ dress? Suddenly, she felt very uncertain of the gown. Was she really ready to accept this one? What if there was still something else out there, just waiting for her? But nothing else had provoked such a reaction from her mother, and Olga had said…

Charlene turned away, averting her face and holding out her hand to ward off her daughter. Vanessa heard a faint, choking sound from her and saw her shoulders quiver slightly. Going to her mother and laying a tender hand on her arm, the bride asked, "Mom, are you…?"

The woman sputtered and gasped for air, and Vanessa, looking into her flushed face, realized that Mom was – was _laughing_. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry," she reached out and hugged her little girl. "You're beautiful, of course you are, and if this is what you want…" Holding her at arm's length, Charlene took one more look at her, and had to smother another giggle before she finally blurted out the source of her mirth. "You look like you escaped from Cirque du Lune! Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologized in the general direction of Lydia, who was taking this with a serenity that Ferb would envy.

"Well, it is rather different, especially in the blue," the bridal consultant acknowledged graciously. "We do have it in ivory," she suggested to Vanessa. "Or blush."

"Not a big fan of blush," Vanessa replied, holding onto her mother's hand as Charlene sat down on the lounge and Linda passed her a glass of water to wash down the giggles.

"Ivory might be nice," Linda hinted.

"Unnh," Vanessa took another look at herself in the mirror and rejected this idea. "Anything else blue we can try?" she appealed to Lydia.

"Let's get you out of that one, and we'll take another look," she invited, and they retreated to the changing room once more.

"Sorry about my Mom," Vanessa murmured when they were alone again.

"Oh, no need to apologize," Lydia brushed this off with a smile. "Shopping for a bridal gown brings out some interesting reactions. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've heard."

They thumbed through the blue dresses again, but nothing else really spoke to Vanessa. Just holding up the ivory version of the "circus gown," as her mother's remarks had now forced her to think of it, was enough to remind Vanessa of why she had given up on the traditional varieties of white to begin with. And she still held, somewhere in the back of her mind, some vague, unfocused image of a dress she could see herself wearing in Paris, arm in arm at the Eiffel Tower with her new husband. It was out there, somewhere, and she would know it when she found it.

But it was clear to her now that she wasn't going to find it today.

_To be continued…_

**A/N – LOL, this is an awful lot of time and energy to spend on a story about trying on dresses. Don't worry, this isn't going to drag on forever. I just hope that the ultimate resolution is satisfactory for my readers.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – Don't worry, only a couple more red herrings to go. This has been a big expenditure of time and words for something so trivial!**

Thumbs Down to the Gown – Part 3

Vanessa poked at her Tuscan chicken salad. Why had she ordered this in the first place? Oh, it was all right, but she should have gone for the lasagna. Or a smoked turkey panini like the one Linda was munching on. Something involving the comfort of hot, melty cheese. At least they had a couple of chocolate things on the dessert cart. That would help.

"Well, I'm sorry that didn't turn out better," said Mom, drizzling vinaigrette over her spinach salad. "They certainly did have some unconventional things."

She had a way of saying 'unconventional' that made Vanessa drive her fork into a chunk of tomato with a little more force than necessary.

"I suppose we could always go back," her mother added. "I'm sorry I said that about the circus dress. If that's what you wanted…"

"It's not about the circus dress, Mom," Vanessa sighed.

"Honey, I know you like to be different…"

There it was, thought Vanessa; that indulgent tone she had heard over and over for as long as she could remember. "And it's not about being _different_," she interjected in her own defense.

Mom gave her that vague _Of course, dear_ nod. "You know, if you're not finding what you want off the rack, maybe we should look into hiring a designer."

Vanessa nearly choked on an olive. "A _designer?_ Mom, you cannot be serious. Do you have any idea how much that would cost? I don't, but it would have to be astronomical." She shook her head decisively. "I don't need a dress that costs more than my car."

"But you could have exactly what you want," Charlene insisted.

"I don't _know_ what I want," Vanessa struggled to keep her voice down. "That's half the problem!" With a sigh, she tried to explain. "I just want something that feels – special."

"Vanessa, honey," Mom's voice was tender, "whatever you choose _will_ be special. Because it will be yours. You'll make it special."

"I'm sure Ferb will think it's special," Linda added encouragingly.

These well-meant platitudes soothed her a bit, but didn't solve the problem. "I guess I'm just waiting for something to sweep me off my feet." She illustrated the words with a dramatic twirl of her fork, the green glint of her engagement ring drawing her eye. This brought her as close as she had come yet to explaining her thoughts. "It's like when Ferb found my ring. I had no idea what I wanted, but the moment I saw it, that was _it_. It wasn't just about having something different. It's like it was meant to be mine – it was just waiting for him to find it. Does that make any sense at all?" she appealed to both women, looking from one to the other.

It was Linda who spoke up. "Well, have you thought about looking for a vintage dress?"

Charlene's nose wrinkled at this. "You mean, something used? I don't know, isn't that supposed to be bad luck?"

"Mom, you don't believe in 'bad luck,'" Vanessa reminded her.

"I just can't see you getting married in something from Charitable Charities," her mother shook her head.

"No one's talking about Charitable Charities," Linda brushed this off with a light laugh. "I mean _vintage_." Turning to Vanessa, she explained, "I know a couple of women who have a shop near here, on the west side. They always have the nicest things. We could run out there after lunch, if you want. I think I can still find it," she admitted a bit uncertainly.

Vanessa already had her phone out and was swiping at the screen. "What's it called?"

"Wardrobe 2C. It's in Summer Grove."

Pulling up a map and directions, she discovered, "It's only about twenty minutes from here." With a look at her mother, she added, "I'd like to check it out."

"Well, I guess it can't hurt to look," Charlene conceded.

Finished with lunch and fortified with a hunk of chocolate cappucino cheesecake, Vanessa hopped into the front of her mother's car, reinvigorated and ready to navigate with the help of her phone. As they merged onto the West Oakdale loop, Charlene said, "Now there's no reason to make any rash decisions, honey."

"Mm-hm," she glanced up at the sign noting the next three exits. It amazed her that after all these years, Mom still hadn't learned that telling her not to make a rash decision usually provoked her to do exactly that.

"After all, there are plenty of other bridal shops back in Danville; we've barely even started."

"Relax, Mom. Even if I don't find anything here, it'll be fun."

"And it'll be nice to see the girls again," Linda remarked from the back seat. "Connie and Carol," she explained to Vanessa. "That's why they call it Wardrobe 2C – they're the two Cs."

They found the shop in a quaint old block of the suburb, sandwiched between a florist's and a store that sold new and old hardware and cabinet fixtures. As they walked past the display window filled with unusual door knobs and drawer pulls, Vanessa smiled to think of the hours Ferb could have spent in there.

An old-fashioned bell over the door jingled as they entered the vintage clothing shop. Wardrobe 2C appeared small at first glance, the front of the shop filled with racks of clothing along the walls, and stands displaying hats, shoes and handbags sprouting from the floor. There was an open archway beyond the cashier's counter, though, that offered a glimpse of further treasures. From these depths emerged a woman, summoned by the sound of their entrance. She came out wearing a sundress splashed with bright orange and scarlet poppies and a pleasant smile that blossomed into an expression of genuine delight once she saw the red-headed woman.

"Good grief, is that Linda Flynn-Fletcher?"

"Hi, stranger," Linda beamed in return, and the two of them met halfway for a hug.

"I haven't seen you since I don't know when," said the woman, stepping back. "You haven't changed a bit!"

"Neither have you. I brought some friends with me," she motioned to her companions. "Carol, this is Charlene, and her daughter, Vanessa. Vanessa's engaged to marry Ferb."

"Little Ferb?" the poppy-dressed woman exclaimed, holding one hand about three feet off the floor, then she chuckled. "Well, I guess he's not so little any more. I don't even want to hear how old your kids are now." She made a show of putting her hands over her ears before reaching out to her guests. "It's great to meet you. Are you just in town for the day?" she asked Linda.

"Actually, we're helping Vanessa shop for the wedding. She's in the 'gown hunt' stage. I'm afraid we're not having much luck so far."

"Try 'no luck,'" put in the bride-to-be.

"Ugh," said Carol, giving her a sympathetic look. "Fun but frustrating, right?"

"She's looking for something unique," Mom chimed in, putting an arm around her daughter. "Linda suggested we come see you."

"Well, you're in the right place," Carol smiled. "We don't have a lot of bridal gowns at the moment, but I do have a couple that might work."

As they followed her to the back rooms, Vanessa said, "It doesn't actually have to be an official bridal gown."

"In that case, I have some nice formals, too, you should look at. Come on, let's see what we can find."

Vanessa was pleased to see her mother start to look with interest at some of the vintage dresses in the shop. Carol led them to a corner where several floor-length gowns were displayed.

"Aaa," Linda exclaimed gleefully, "Charlene, look at this!"

"Oh, my gosh," Charlene lit up as well as the two of them swarmed around the billowing pile of cream-colored satin.

Vanessa took one look at the voluminous bridal gown with the huge puffy sleeves and said, "Oh, no, Mom, I am not wearing that."

"Of course not, dear," Mom reassured her, giggling. "The eighties haven't come back yet."

"Oh, I dreamed of having a gown like this when I was sixteen," Linda sighed.

"Oh, yeah," Carol nodded. "Call me crazy, but I still love these old eighties wedding gowns, they're so over-the-top."

Scanning the surrounding racks, Vanessa's eye was caught by a soothing shade of periwinkle and she approached for a closer look. Carol saw what had drawn her attention and said, "Oh, the English dress! Here," she turned it on the rack and scooped one arm under the skirt to offer a better view of it. "It's from the forties, rayon crepe."

The gown was long and sleek – _slinky_ was the word Vanessa would have applied to it. It had elbow-length sleeves and the neckline came up to the throat in front, but it draped low in the back. And the color was beautiful. "You said it's English?" The thought made the dress all the more appealing to her.

"Originally, yes," Carol nodded. "We found it at an estate sale in Ontario. You're welcome to try it on," she lifted the hanger from the rail. "Come on, I'll show you the changing rooms."

Vanessa glanced over at her mother and Linda, who were still lost in the nostalgia of eighties fashion, and seized the opportunity to slip away. Carol left her alone with the periwinkle crepe gown, and Vanessa carefully eased herself into it. It would be simple enough to pack for Paris, she noted, gathering up the soft fabric. There were a couple of drawbacks to it, however. The Englishwoman who had first worn it must have been six feet tall, she marveled, noting how the skirt pooled on the floor around her feet. That would be simple enough to alter, though. The larger issue – literally – was Vanessa's curvaceous figure. If the back of the gown hadn't been open, she never would have fit into it. It was clearly designed for a woman of a more willowy shape.

"How are we doing?" came Carol's voice from outside the room.

Vanessa opened the door to show her. "Well, I love the color, but it doesn't really fit."

"I was a little afraid of that," the woman admitted. "The skirt could be hemmed, of course, but there's not much you can do about the bust. Connie says that woman must have been a beanpole. Well, we've got lots more you can try," she encouraged, leaving Vanessa alone to change out of the gown.

Once again in her own clothes, Vanessa carried the periwinkle gown back to the rack and was greeted by her mother with a giddy, "Oh, honey, look at this!" Mom was holding up a glittery halter dress from the disco era.

"Can you believe it?" said Linda, with an equally eager grin.

Vanessa cast one glance at the vivid lime green monstrosity and raised an eyebrow as she responded in a grim tone, "Well, at least I know Dad would like it."

"Oh, not for you," Mom assured her with an amused grimace. "But can you believe we used to wear these things? Well, it's a little before my time," she hedged.

"Oh, Char, look at this one," Linda had found some confection of tangerine polyester, and the women started in again on their tour of amusingly dated fashions.

Frankly grateful to have them distracted, Vanessa handed the English gown back to Carol and said, "Do you mind if I just look around?"

"Not at all. If you see something you like, feel free to try it on. Let me know if you need a hand."

"Thanks." Vanessa ventured away from the moms and off to a rack of day dresses. There were slim shifts from the sixties, full skirts from the fifties, suits from the forties with padded shoulders. This was more her style, and as she sorted through the clothes, she stopped at one outfit in particular. It was a two-piece suit dress in a smooth, shiny fabric, a dark steel blue in color with little abstract feathery swooshes of beige scattered over it. The top buttoned up the front, with wide lapels and three-quarter length sleeves and a narrow belt to cinch in the waist. The style reminded her fondly of her favorite clothes when she was sixteen. The matching skirt was slim and straight. It wasn't really what she would have envisioned for the wedding, but she couldn't resist plucking it from the rack and carrying it to the dressing room.

To her delight, the steel blue suit fit. Oh, the waistband of the skirt could have been taken in an inch or two, and she couldn't quite decide if it was a touch too long, but the jacket buttoned up perfectly, and she ran her fingers over the lapels as she turned this way and that in front of the mirror. Hands on hips, Vanessa smiled at her reflection. She absolutely had to get this dress. Grabbing her own clothes in one hand, she went out to show it off.

Carol had disappeared, and Mom and Linda were now chatting with another woman, shorter and stouter, in striped capris and glasses. Linda spotted Vanessa first and said, "Oh, here she is! Vanessa, come say hi to Connie."

She was introduced to the other of the two Cs, who said, "So, I hear you're marrying Ferb. He's such a doll."

"Yes. Yes, he is," Vanessa smiled.

"Linda brought him in here when he was, what, seven?" Connie looked to the woman for confirmation. "To buy his dad a necktie for Father's Day. He was the sweetest little thing you ever saw. And you have got to tell me," she stepped back to get a better look, "that you are taking that suit. It's perfect on you. I wish I could fit into it," she confided, with a rueful smile and a pat of her tummy.

"Yeah, Mom," Vanessa displayed herself, "what do you think?"

Charlene looked disappointed as she asked, "For the wedding? Wouldn't you rather…?"

"No, not for the wedding, just because. I love it. I think it looks good."

"It does," Linda agreed. "It's very smart."

"Well, I do like it," Charlene agreed. "As long as it's 'just because.'"

Carol appeared again at this point and instantly said, "Oh, Vanessa, that suit looks fabulous on you!"

"Thanks. I'm definitely buying this today."

"But not for the wedding," Mom clarified.

Connie turned to Carol and asked, "Did you show her the Bo Peep dress?"

"Is it still here?" Carol questioned. "I didn't see it."

"It had better be here." Connie looked alarmed for a moment, then realized with relief, "Oh, silly me, it's in the back. I was trying to fit it on a mannequin to go in the window. Vanessa, you have to try it on."

"Bo Peep dress?" she raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"That's just what we call it," said Carol. "It's a wedding gown from the fifties."

"It's the prettiest dress you ever saw," Connie gushed. "But it fits hardly anyone. You have the perfect shape for it. I would love to see how it looks on you."

"Oh, yes, honey, do it," Mom pressed eagerly, and Linda nodded in agreement.

Vanessa cast her eyes around the circle of enthusiastic women and simply reiterated, with a pointed look at her mother, "Bo Peep?" But they were all gazing at her so pleadingly, she sighed and said, "Well, I guess it can't hurt to try it on."

The gown was brought from its hiding place to the dressing room, along with a box full of accessories. Vanessa's first impression was of lace, and ruffles, and more lace. The added glimpse of hoops and crinolines made her remark, "I think I'm going to need a hand with this." She made the appeal first to her mother, but Charlene held up her hands and stepped back.

"Oh, but I want to be surprised," she protested plaintively.

"I can help," Linda offered. "If you don't mind."

Vanessa didn't mind, in fact, and agreed with a, "Sure, thanks."

"Let me help you get everything unpacked," Carol offered, "then I'll get out of the way. Oh, and hand me that suit when you get out of it, and I'll bag it up for you."

The "Bo Peep dress" wasn't just a dress, Vanessa discovered, as they crowded into the changing room. It was a complete bridal ensemble, from shoes to veil. She shuddered a bit as Linda admired the headpiece. She was _not_ wearing a veil, not under any circumstances. No matter what dress she ended up with, Vanessa already knew what she was wearing in her hair on her wedding day, and it did not involve a veil. Shockingly, this topic had not yet been broached – probably because Mom just assumed there would be a veil – but as far as Vanessa was concerned, this was not open to debate. Still, she admitted, there was no harm in trying it on, just to complete the look.

Once all the pieces were assembled, Vanessa and Linda went to work on organizing her into the gown. It was clear where the Bo Peep reference had come from. The skirt actually had hoops under it, and was smothered in row after row of dainty ruffles of lace. The strapless bodice was smooth, pure white satin, but over it went a short-sleeved lace bolero jacket. Then came a pair of fingerless lace gloves that covered her arms up to the elbows. The pearl-studded band of the veil fit over the crown of her head, and Linda fluffed out the crisp tulle behind her shoulders. At last, Vanessa stepped into the white pumps; they were a touch too big, but nothing she couldn't walk in.

"That is so pretty," Linda said, admiring the effect.

"Is it too short?" Vanessa wondered, observing how the bell-shaped skirt stopped at her ankles.

"No, hon, that's how it's supposed to be," Linda assured her.

Vanessa examined the stranger in the mirror. The dress was pretty – _she_ was pretty – but the bride looking back at her was someone she almost didn't recognize. And she knew the elaborate ensemble would never make it to Paris, never mind the Eiffel Tower.

"Come on," said Linda, "let's go show everyone how beautiful you look."

With a knot in the pit of her stomach, Vanessa turned to Linda and begged, "If Mom gets her heart set on this, you have to help me talk her out of it!"

"Relax, hon," Linda patted her arm. "You'll be fine."

Carefully curling her toes into the too-big shoes, Vanessa proceeded with mincing steps out to the shop floor. "Here comes the bride," Linda chirped, completely unnecessarily, and an audible gasp went up from the three women awaiting her.

"Oh, my gosh, I'm going to cry!"

A momentary flash of panic seized Vanessa before she realized that these words had come from Connie, who was blinking behind her glasses and fanning herself with one hand. Mom was dry-eyed, but glowing with excitement as she circled her daughter and gushed, "What a beautiful dress, oh, that's so pretty, oh look at the little gloves, isn't that sweet, are there hoops under there, let me see…"

The women flocked around to admire the gown in all its detailed glory, and Vanessa breathed a bit easier. The gleam in every eye and the breathless smile on every face reminded her of what Olga had said on her first trip to Tri-State Bridal: she was simply the dress-up doll, and these overgrown little girls were just excited to see the pretty gown on her.

"Honey, what do you think?" Mom asked at last. "Do you like it?"

"It really is beautiful," Vanessa answered carefully. "And thank you for letting me try it on," she acknowledged the two Cs. "But… it's not really what I'm looking for. It's a little…"

"Too Bo-Peepy?" Carol suggested, with an understanding smile.

"I'm sure you'll find someone it's perfect for," Vanessa assured them.

"I suppose it's all for the best," Mom acknowledged. "After all, you'd never be able to get it to Paris."

Vanessa's jaw nearly dropped at this remark. Was her mother finally coming to terms with the venue? Before she could respond, Connie approached her and said, "Could I ask you – it's fine if you say no, but – would you let me take a few pictures of you in that dress, for our website? We can blur out your face if you don't want it online, but I don't know when we'll ever find a better model, and it's such a beautiful dress."

"Sure," she agreed with a smile. "And you don't have to blur me out."

"Oh, thank you," Connie nearly jumped up and down at the answer. "Let's go up front where there's more light. In fact, maybe we should go outside. Come on."

"I'd like to browse around a little more," said Linda, hanging back.

"I'd love to try on some of those hats," Charlene put in, and Vanessa left the moms to their own devices as she and Connie went outside to take photographs.

Modeling the dress was actually sort of fun, as Vanessa struck appropriately dainty and demure poses amidst the lace and ruffles and Connie snapped pictures of the details as well as the overall effect. While they were engaged in this enterprise, a car pulled up and a young woman got out. She was tall and slim, with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she carried a garment bag over her shoulder. As she approached them, the first words out of her mouth were a delighted exclamation of, "Oh, the Bo Peep dress!"

"Vanessa, this is my niece, Rachel," said Connie.

"Hi," Rachel smiled at her, and Vanessa returned the greeting.

"Vanessa's engaged to my friend Linda's son," Connie explained.

"That's wonderful!" the young woman enthused. "You look beautiful in that gown; you're going to leave him speechless."

Vanessa had to grin a bit at the 'speechless' remark, but before she could answer, Connie put in, "Oh, she's not buying the gown, she's just modeling today. Does this mean you're finished?" she changed the subject, eagerly eyeing the garment bag.

Rachel nodded. "All done. Sorry it took so long, I had a hard time matching the new thread with the old."

"I can't wait to see. Vanessa," Connie motioned for her to follow and said, "I can't thank you enough for this, but I can knock something off that suit you want. No, I'm serious," she waved off Vanessa's attempted protest, "it's the least I can do. Let's see what Rachel's got, then I'll help you with the gown. She does beautiful needlework; she made the nicest set of tea towels when her uncle and I got married."

Mom and Linda were out of sight, presumably still browsing in the depths of the shop, and Carol was also absent. Rachel had draped the opaque plastic garment bag over the counter and was unzipping it as Connie pressed forward to get the first look. Vanessa hung back, not wanting to crush the Bo Peep hoop skirt, but she could see over the woman's shoulder a glimpse of pale blue accented with a scattering of other colors. Connie's fingertips hovered over the fabric, hesitant to touch it, as she breathed, "It's beautiful. Rachel, you're amazing, I can't tell the difference. Vanessa, look at this," she beckoned, then said, "Here, let's take it out of the bag." Together, aunt and niece carefully unwrapped the garment and Rachel took hold of the hanger, lifting the dress into the light.

A quiver stirred in Vanessa's heart and coursed through the rest of her, leaving her light-headed. The azure cloud before her eyes resolved itself into a gauzy gown, and she took a step forward as the details became clearer. The dress was made of a very fine net, with a scooped neckline and fluttery sleeves capping the shoulders. The dropped waist slanted downward at an angle, creating three tiers of softly gathered ruffles of net. Most striking of all, the dress was scattered with tiny vines and clusters and buds of roses embroidered in muted shades of green and mauve. Connie and Rachel were discussing the dress and Vanessa gathered from their remarks that Rachel had restored by hand the worn or missing portions of the original embroidery. The work was stunning, and Vanessa could only guess at how long it must have taken.

Connie turned to ask her what she thought, and Vanessa found herself unable to form the words. When their eyes met, the woman responded to her expression with a kind smile and gently said, "Would you like to try it on?"

Rachel held out the dress toward her in appeal.

All Vanessa could do was nod.

"I have the slip put away here," said Connie. "I'll get it for you. Go back to the dressing room and we'll get you out of that gown first."

"I can help, if you want," Rachel offered.

Vanessa nodded again before she managed to squeeze out a, "Thanks." As Connie started off to find the slip, Vanessa reached out and touched her arm. "Don't tell my Mom, if you see her. Or Linda. I-I'd like to try it on before I show them, okay?"

Connie agreed and the younger women retreated to the changing room. Rachel was packing away the odds and ends for the Bo Peep gown when the older woman brought in the slip for the net dress.

"I930s, silk charmeuse," she fell naturally into fashion historian mode, handing over the simple garment. "It's not original to the dress, but it's from the same era, and it's surprising how well it coordinates."

The shimmering slip was the blue of a clear sky reflected on a still lake. The silk was like liquid, thought Vanessa, as it caressed the curves of her figure, gently complementing her shape. The hem came to her knees, forming an opaque foundation for the embroidered dress that went over it. The airy blue net suggested a layer of mist rising from the waters, the delicate vines and blooms floating on the surface. The ruffles of the skirt draped to somewhere slightly above her ankles, and she stepped into her own high heeled shoes to get the proper effect.

Vanessa Doofenshmirtz gazed at her reflection in the mirror. The expression on the face gazing back at her was oddly familiar, but it took her a moment to realize why: It was a lot like the look she was used to getting from Ferb. He had told her once how he envisioned her whenever he was overcome by that look, and now she understood. All at once, she was seeing herself through the eyes of the young man who loved her.

She was vaguely aware that Connie and Rachel were still there, but they had fallen speechless as well, and the whole world stood still for a moment before Vanessa, with a lump in her throat, squeezed out four words.

"I want my Mom."

With an understanding nod, Connie said gently, "Stay put. I'll go round everyone up, then you can come out and show them."

Vanessa turned to Rachel, whose lips were pressed together in a broad, uncontainable smile as she tried to blink something out of her light blue eyes. The young woman reached out and fluffed one of the butterfly sleeves with her fingertips. "Lucky I brought this back today."

"Are you sure…?" Vanessa began, feeling suddenly presumptuous. "I mean, it _is_ for sale, right? If you meant to keep it…" For a moment, she felt a surge of dread at the possible answer. She didn't really want to pull a Mary McGuffin on Rachel, but after all she had been through, there was no way Vanessa was leaving the shop without this dress.

Rachel must have seen the flash of concern, because now she took Vanessa's hand between hers and patted it. "Don't worry. My part's done. You'll have to talk price with Aunt Connie and Carol of course, but…" She stepped back to admire it one more time and no longer tried to hold back the gleam of joy in her eyes. "It's your dress, Vanessa. I'm just glad it found you."

The door cracked open and Connie peeked in. "Ready?"

Mom and Linda and Carol were all waiting for her. There was a collective intake of breath, and Vanessa heard the murmured comments of "lovely" and "beautiful" from the other women, but she had eyes only for her speechless mother. With an appealing look, Vanessa prompted, "Mom…?"

"My little girl." The words were barely audible, and Charlene pressed her fingers to her lips as if surprised that they had come out. She stepped forward and said, more strongly this time, "My precious little girl…" Her arms reached out and her hands fluttered somewhere just shy of her daughter. "Oh, I'm afraid to touch you, I don't want to crush anything."

"It's okay, Mom," Vanessa assured her, drawing her into the hug and feeling the little shudder go through her.

"Oh, look at me," the woman pulled back, wiping her wet cheeks with one hand. "I'm a mess."

Carol produced a tissue, and another, as the emotional mother collected herself. Vanessa turned to Linda to gauge her reaction, and caught a moist gleam in her eye as well.

"Honey, you look like an angel," her future mother-in-law beamed at her. "We're going to have to scrape Ferb up off the floor when he sees you."

_Yes,_ she thought fondly; _Yes, we will._ Vanessa wished for a moment that the wedding wasn't such a long time away; it was going to be hard to keep the dress a secret for that long, but she really did want to surprise Ferb when the day came. She could already picture the look on his face.

The End

**A/N – If you would like to see the inspiration for Vanessa's dress: Do a Google image search for "fine net dress" – one of the first results should be from a site called dressingvintage, with a caption about "peachy pink fine net dress." The original dress is a peach color, and if you follow the link, you can see more views of it. For a long time, I wanted Vanessa to have a floaty 1920s-1930s dress that wasn't an actual wedding gown, and was so happy when I found this. Well before "Excaliferb," I wanted her in light blue, but the Lady of the Puddle sealed that for sure.**

**The steel blue suit she buys is also a real dress – I thought it was from that same site, but can't find it now. It will be making a return appearance down the road.**


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